


Give me your tomorrows

by Raehimura



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, And a tiny bit of Smut, Basically Spiritassassin retirement fic, ENTIRELY FLUFF, Fix-It, M/M, Spiritassassin Exchange, spiritassassin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-16 01:25:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11818281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raehimura/pseuds/Raehimura
Summary: After the Battle of Scarif, Baze and Chirrut are hyper aware of what they almost lost. They resolve to spend the time they have left with each other, away from the war. Baze finds them a misfit ship, and they ride happily off into their retirement as traveling space hippies who can't keep their hands off each other.





	Give me your tomorrows

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KelAlannan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KelAlannan/gifts).



> My prompt was for something fluffy and a little dirty, and for Baze and Chirrut exploring the galaxy. Hope I did the prompt justice!

The ship they flew out on was, if Baze was being generous, a clunker. It was several generations old, cobbled together from spare parts and cannibalized from half a dozen wrecked ships. But it was small and discrete, made from technology Baze was comfortable working with, and had an autopilot Chirrut could use in an emergency. And, most importantly, it didn’t hurt the Resistance to lose it.

It hurt them more to lose Baze and Chirrut themselves – they were in desperate need of warm bodies, especially those with so much combat experience. Even after all they had been through, if Chirrut had insisted, Baze would have stayed. After all, few were as intimately aware of what was at stake in the fight against the Empire.

But it had been Chirrut who insisted they had done their part, who curled into Baze on a medbay cot and murmured feverish plans about escaping the war and seeing the rest of the galaxy, just the two of them. Perhaps helping out where they could, perhaps leaving teachings from the Temple scattered across the galaxy like seeds. Or perhaps settling down on the most boring outworlder planet they could find and spending their days growing plants and making each other crazy. Anything, so long as they could hold on to what time together they had left – time they had been so close to losing.

So while Chirrut was finishing up the physical therapy that the doctors (and Baze) had insisted on despite his stubbornness, Baze got to work procuring a ship and some supplies. Though all of Rogue One was hailed as heroes, the war still raged around them, and supplies were tight. They still might have given Baze anything he asked for, but one look around at the too-young faces they were leaving to fight this war made it clear he could take nothing they would miss.

He was relieved when he found the little shuttle in a corner of the flight hangar, waiting to be repurposed for scraps. The head mechanic also seemed relieved to pass it off to someone else. With a few borrowed tools and some creative patchwork, Baze had her up and running, reliably if inelegantly. On the day he put the last bolt in place, he knew it was time to surprise Chirrut with his plan.

Baze barely paused long enough to wipe the grease from his hands before he headed to the medbay where Chirrut was finishing a rehabilitation session.

“Has my husband finally come to free me from the clutches of these overzealous droids?” Chirrut was already calling out from his position on the floor as Baze entered the room.

“Only if you’re done for the day.”

The med droid whirred its tiny spherical head approvingly at Baze. “His progress is satisfactory. Rest is recommended.”

Baze choked. The first time he had collected Chirrut from a session, the droid had gone through a very … thorough list of exactly the kinds of strenuous activity they should avoid. Baze still blushed at the memory. Chirrut’s wicked little grin certainly didn’t help.

Valiantly ignoring his flushed cheeks, Baze assured the droid, “I’ll make sure he takes it easy.”

“You needn’t worry,” Chirrut said, pushing up from the ground with a perfectly serene face. “I am the calmest soul in this star system.”

It would only encourage him, but Baze couldn’t stop his chuckle. Chirrut grinned back, sly, like he always did when he managed to make Baze laugh. Which he always did.

The warm familiarity of the moment left Baze breathless with the knowledge that they had almost lost this. That they had both almost been lost. The fact that they were standing here laughing together over one of Chirrut’s stupid jokes was the kind of miracle Baze had not believed in for a long time. Maybe that was changing.

He swayed toward Chirrut and suddenly had to touch, sliding his hand up his arm to grip his shoulder. If Chirrut noticed the shift in him, he didn’t mention it.

It took him a few tries to swallow the lump in his throat, but when he did he blurted out, “I have a surprise for you.”

“Oh Baze, my dear!” Chirrut swooned, eyes fluttering. “Is it a _strenuous_ surprise?”

Baze groaned, flushing further as the med droids made a displeased chittering noise. “Do you want to see it or not?”

“Alright, alright, lead the way.”

Baze walked ahead a step as they made their way to the other side of the base. When they got near the flight hangar and the air pressure dropped, Chirrut laughed again. “We’re heading to the hangar? Now I don’t know if I hope it’s not a strenuous surprise, or if I _really_ hope it is.”

Baze just grumbled, aiming a stray kick at Chirrut’s ankles that he easily sidestepped, laughter ringing through the corridor as he danced ahead.

He stopped at the entrance, tilting his head to the side as Baze caught up. “Aren’t you going to ask me to close my eyes? It’s a surprise after all.”

“I would settle for you closing your mouth, but I know better than to hope for the impossible,” Baze groused, dropping a warm hand to the small of Chirrut’s back to guide him over to the corner he had claimed for the ship. Chirrut leaned into him easily.

When they made it to the ship, Baze nudged him around to the side and took his hand, placing it on the ship’s hull where a series of bumps stood out from its surface. Touch writing.

Chirrut’s smile was surprised, but his brow furrowed as he traced over the writing. “It’s numbers. The serial number for a ship?”

“Our ship,” Baze corrected, letting Chirrut hear the smile in his low voice.

“Really?” Chirrut asked, a touch of wonder in his voice as both hands spread wide over the cool metal of the ship.

Baze hummed his assent, watching as Chirrut circled the shuttle and felt out the edges he could reach. Finally, he planted himself in front of Baze with a brilliant, satisfied smile.

“I wasn’t sure how we would leave or how long it would take, but I knew the Force would find a way.”

“It wasn’t the Force that fixed the engine,” Baze grumbled, but it was habit more than anything, and there was no heat behind it.

Chirrut just smiled, as he always did, and curled his fingers through Baze’s. “Describe it for me?”

“It’s not much to look at,” he admitted. “But she’ll fly anywhere we want to go. The body is from a cargo ship, but she’s been retrofitted for longhaul flights. She has a rounded cockpit stuck onto a rectangular body, and a radar array that looks like the antennae of those fuzzy worms that invaded the gardens every rainy season. She was made up from a lot of mismatched parts, but I repainted them to match. Gray like rainclouds and red like our old robes.”

Chirrut leaned over and hid a pleased smile in Baze’s shoulder, but didn’t comment other than to tug their joined hands. “Show me the inside.”

Baze brought him inside and leaned against the pilot’s seat while Chirrut explored, calling out directions and distances as he went. There was a cockpit of sorts and then an onloading/storage area. In the back of the ship, separated by a metal half-wall, was a living area with a small kitchen, a sleeping area and a bathroom. After one full turn of the ship, Baze heard a thump and a laugh from beyond the partition and went to investigate.

He found Chirrut splayed out on the double bunk that took up a good portion of the living area. It was already stocked with a nest of soft beddings, and Chirrut stretched wide, making himself at home. Then he cocked his face up at Baze, that sly smile back in place.

“I think she needs christening, don’t you?”

Baze sighed but stepped up to the bed anyway, eyes glued to Chirrut’s long limbs as he stretched. “I think it doesn’t count as christening while she’s still docked.”

Chirrut reached up then, and Baze allowed himself to be pulled down into a brief kiss. Chirrut pulled away to murmur, “Then when can we leave?”

Baze sat back and ignored Chirrut’s pout. “When you’re ready.”

Chirrut had a retort ready, but Baze cut him off. “And not until I’m ready. Which won’t be until the doctors say you're ready.”

Chirrut’s pout dissolved into a fond smile as he sat up and curled into Baze’s chest. “Oh, my dear, you are such a worrier. Whatever shall I do with you?”

Baze smiled softly and curled an arm around Chirrut. “Give me fewer reasons to worry, perhaps.”

“I think I can do that.”

***

It was another week before Chirrut was cleared for traveling, a week they spent saying their goodbyes. Bodhi took it the hardest, and they spent as much time as they could sitting with him and trading stories about Jedha and the Temple. His hands shook when he hugged them goodbye, but Baze promised that no matter where they went, he would always know how to contact them. Chirrut merely told him how proud they were to have him carrying on Jedha’s legacy, and then hugged him again as he cried.

Cassian thanked them for their service, posture rigid and tone startlingly formal. It was only the weariness in his eyes that spoke of how he was torn between asking them to stay and running off with them. But he said neither, just shook their hands and wished them luck wherever they ended up. Baze asked him to take care of Bodhi and Jyn, and Chirrut couldn’t help a comment about love being rare and Cassian needing to make his move quick, which left him both with a genuine smile and looking a little queasy around the edges.

Jyn made herself scarce in the week leading up to their departure. She had reacted with little emotion when they announced their plans to leave, but her sullen silences and general disappearing act belied her indifference. Finally, the day before they planned to leave, Baze stormed off to track her down. Chirrut never found out exactly what he said to her, but she came to see them off the next day with an open expression and a hug for each of them.

And then it was just the two of them, packed into a small ship, speeding out into a vast galaxy.

The first few days were tense, filled with sleeping and hiding and complicated maneuvers to obscure their trail in case Empire eyes were on them. They both still had nightmares, and often woke in the night just to clutch hard to each other and remind themselves they both still lived. But they slept, curled into and around each other, cocooned in blankets and held safe by the vast anonymity of space around them.

After a few days without so much as a blip on their radar, even Baze seemed to relax into their newfound freedom. He would no longer startle or complain when Chirrut snuck up on him and leaned over his shoulder while he was at the controls, brushing kisses across his cheek and neck. He let Chirrut pull him away from the pilot’s chair to brush and braid his hair. He even joined him once for meditation.

And so, when Chirrut leaned against Baze while sitting at their little table and realized it had been a week since either one had touched a weapon, he felt their new life starting. And Chirrut, who had never left Jedha until they had met Jyn, had a simple request. “Show me the galaxy.”

Baze, as was his nature, took the request deeply seriously from the start. He started a list of all the places he wanted to take Chirrut, all the things he deserved to experience. He added places he'd never been to himself — pointless places, pleasant places, untouched by war or responsibility. He added things he wanted to do together, to experience with Chirrut beside him.

When he looked over his list, he realized that the number one priority was obvious: Chirrut, child of the desert who came alive during every rainstorm, had only experience the ocean while surrounded by death. This could not stand.

“I know a place we should visit,” Baze announced with no warning one morning over breakfast. “A planet near here that is nearly covered in water.”

“You want to take me to the beach?” Chirrut teased, delighted.

Baze hummed to himself. “You should experience a real ocean.”

Chirrut’s grin was whipcord and reckless. “Well it can’t be worse than the last time.”

Baze snorted into his tea.

They landed on the planet the next morning, settling down on an abandoned island far from any settlements. The sun was already high in a clear, slightly lavender-tinged sky, and the breeze blowing off the water was warm and salty. Chirrut breathed deep the second his bare feet hit the sand, and he’d stripped naked before Baze could even assure him they were alone.

Baze’s protests died in his throat at the sight of all that lean muscle burnished gold in the sun. A slight sheen of sweat was already forming across Chirrut’s shoulders, drawing attention to the well defined lines that lead down his back. And lower. Baze swallowed hard. Between recovering from their injuries and the first careful days of their travels, it had been far too long since they had touched their fill.

“Well, are you coming?” Chirrut called back over his shoulder as he took careful steps toward the shore. “Or am I to experience this ‘real ocean’ by myself?”

Baze shook himself out of his reverie, quickly chastising himself for acting like a horny teenager. After all, there would be plenty of time for that. They had all the time they wanted now.

He shucked off his own clothes and caught up to Chirrut, taking his elbow to help orient him to the new space. When the tide rushed in over Chirrut’s feet, he let out a startled laugh that made Baze’s chest expand. When they had waded in to their waists, Chirrut turned into Baze’s grasp and looped his arms around his neck.

“It’s wonderful,” he breathed. “Like being surrounded by a thunderstorm, but warm and calm. Thank you for sharing this with me.”

Baze pulled him in closer, aware again of all the places they were touching. He angled his face down for a lazy kiss.

And promptly had the wind knocked out of him as Chirrut hooked his ankle and pulled him down into the water.

He surfaced, spluttering, to see Chirrut dancing away through the water and laughing his ass off. Two could play at this game. He lunged forward to tackle Chirrut and, when he dodged as expected, showered him with a huge splash.

Things descended into roughhousing and splashing then, making a ruckus that would have given the guardians at the Temple a heart attack. Eventually they called a truce, and Baze left Chirrut to float in the warm water while he took a nap on the beach. He did not think of his weapon once.

When he awoke, the sun had nearly set, and Chirrut was propped up over him running fingers through his salt-thick hair. He mumbled something that may have been meant as a question, but Chirrut just smiled and pulled him to his feet, leading him back to the ship as Baze yawned and stretched. Once inside, Chirrut blocked the way to the pilot’s seat, instead pushing Baze passed the partition and onto their bed.

Now that he had a moment to just look, Baze devoured the sun-soaked plains of Chirrut’s skin, the relaxed roll of his muscles as he clambered onto the bed and settled across Baze’s lap, the delight and reckless, unabashed tenderness dripping from his grin. He let his hands caress where his eyes roamed, pulling Chirrut down bodily for a long, slow kiss.

It was Chirrut who eventually got impatient, as always, pushing Baze back against the bed and pressing against him a fluid undulation that left Baze gasping for breath. He groaned, grasping Chirrut’s shoulders with broad hands and sliding his hips against him until they were aligned just right. 

Chirrut leaned in to make a positively filthy noise right into his ear, before dropping a series of open-mouthed kisses to Baze’s chest and bucking his hips against him. Baze matched his rhythm, clutching at any piece of Chirrut he could reach, and it wasn’t long before they were following each other over the edge.

Chirrut collapsed against him with a sigh, and Baze settled sleepily back into the blankets, one hand stroking through the sweat on Chirrut’s back.

“Why do we even need to leave the ship again?” Baze rumbled, more vibration than sound. Chirrut laughed softly against chest.

“I can think of plenty of other _fun_ things to do,” he admonished, nosing at Baze’s collarbones and the scars littered there, “and fun places to do them. But for now, sleep.”

Baze curled his arm over Chirrut and settled him against his chest. He noticed fuzzily that their breathing had already synchronized. Some habits were hard to break, lost faith or not. 

He was almost asleep when he heard Chirrut add, in a small and grateful voice, “After all, we have tomorrow.”


End file.
